A Sandwich For Mr Giles
by spinners-grove
Summary: Giles has a bit of a mishap with his glasses in the library, so who comes to his rescue but Jenny Calendar? Just some fluff with a hint of snark. Giles/Jenny


This was something I wrote a little while ago, back when I was still on Season Two of Buffy. That being the case, it would have to have taken place somewhere between Some Assembly Required and The Dark Age. Also, I don't know if this is a little OOC for Giles as we know him later, but it's fairly accurate for that particular season.

So please enjoy a bit of Giles/Jenny fluff, mmm?

* * *

Rupert Giles fingered the dusty tome in front of him, its binding resting on the shelf like so many others. He was not sure if this was the one he was looking for, but it was not as if that awful ruckus caused by four or five senior students was of any help. Didn't they know this was a library? There must have been some special hell for people who talked in libraries, he was sure. And then, maybe there was a particularly special _inner circle_ for those _barbaric_ people who- Were they _running_? _Running_ in his _library_?

"This is a _library_, for God's sake!" he shouted over his shoulder. "So settle down or I'll be _forced _to report you to Mr. Snyder!" The noise paused only in the slightest, and then resumed just as loudly as it had been before. After all, it was fairly obvious what an empty threat it was, what with no one in their right mind going to the principal for _anything_. It wasn't Giles' fault the man was secretly a Nazi, and should go jump off a cliff, or die in a fiery hole, or be mauled by a slimy, razor-clawed, iron-toothed, rabies-infected _Harbinger of Death_, or ... Well.

At least it was almost lunchtime. It would be a very nice, very quiet lunchtime, even if he could not remember what exactly he had made for himself. The morning had been such a blur, what with the coffee pot cracking and the car not wanting to start… Had it been tunafish? Or was it egg salad… It was something soft and spreadable, he remembered, because he had to make the silly sandwich with a _spoon_, given that his dishwasher was in a sorry state of Being-Quite-Neglected.

It was too bad there weren't any clean knives, and it was _really_ too bad that he hadn't had more time. There was fresh turkey in the fridge and… He could have made himself his favorite: turkey, American cheese (who would have thought he would have preferred something _American,_) sweet pickles, red onion, and a tiny dab of Dijon mustard. Delicious.

He might have had one today if he hadn't been up so late the previous night researching. Ah, the sacrifices of being a Watcher…

But Giles didn't have much more time to ponder this. He was doing nothing more than searching one of the top shelves on one of those lovely rolling ladders, up on the second floor balcony; quite minding his own business. But what would a handful of rowdy students be doing way up there? They weren't looking for Shakespeare, certainly.

"Augh, Joey!" he heard a girl shriek, and then her two friends giggle as their footsteps thundered closer and closer, the sound of clicking heels growing louder and louder…

A shaggy-haired boy streaked past, chanting, "COMING THROUGH BEEP BEEP AAAAAAH!" which caused the Watcher's expression to significantly darken, almost to the point of resembling a certain Slayer when told that her favorite pair of purple sandals were half-buried in a giant glob of demon entrails.

Finally, just on the breaking point of furious, he opened his mouth to _really _let them have it, and then one, then two short skirts flew by. The first bumped the ladder to the side, and the second bumped it back the other way, the chaos of it only magnified by the shouts and giggles and 'Ack, sorry, excuse me, eeeee!' He wobbled back and forth, then in a panic overcompensated and smashed his forehead into the shelf with a grunt of half-pain-half-fury that might have been alternately titled as 'Librarian Under Fire.' Then, as if that weren't enough, the third girl tipped him off balance again, though this time there was really _nothing _anyone should have been laughing about. He felt his glasses slipping off his nose, but had made a split second decision to take hold of the bookcase instead and save himself a broken neck.

And lo-and-behold, he heard the final one- Joey, he assumed- trample his way by, but not without that awful clink his shoe made as it brushed at least some part of Giles' spectacles. They made a scraping sound as they slid across the wood and then… The scraping ceased as they slipped through the railing and over the edge of the balcony.

He bellowed after them, in a raised voice of outrage that he wasn't aware was even in his possession, along with the few expletives that had slipped through his lips as well. At least, he was fairly sure they were mostly of British origins, so at least the bloody kids wouldn't be running off to tell that dreadful Mr. Nazi. Or- Mr. Snyder. Although, curses or not, he was sure he had shouted _something_ about 'having no respect' and 'desecrating a sacred place' and even something about being 'ghastly, _hideous _beasts with no self-respect whatsoever, who wouldn't even think to take off their blasted shoes before tracking mud through their own grandmother's house.' Or something like that…

This was just not his day.

The Watcher managed to ease himself down from the ladder (forever grateful for solid floorboards,) and gave a thought as to how to he would go about solving this predicament, given the fact that he was sure he heard the steps pound down the stairs and straight out the door. The first step, of course, was to catch his bearings and fume silently for a few moments. Maybe if he concentrated hard enough, he could summon some kind of mystical force of vengeance that would... Nevermind.

Alright, now he could focus. Well. Surely he couldn't actually _find_ his glasses- if the staircase didn't make him into mincemeat, he would almost certainly step on the poor things if he ever did find them. His luck was just so horrible today; thank God there wasn't some demon running around…

And so Giles did the only thing he could think to do. He adjusted his jacket, ran a hand through his hair, and settled himself on the bottom rung of the ladder. Even sitting down, however, his heart rate had not slowed down much. It was really quite like a nightmare, albeit a bit less frightening than that one time… At least he knew _how_ to fix this; it was just a matter of how to go about it…

He anxiously rubbed his forehead, trying desperately to make out blurry shapes in his vision. Heaven's sake his eyesight was poor. He hadn't really realized it until now. No matter how hard he concentrated, he couldn't see any more than fuzzy blotches of beige and brown. Even his hand held up in front of his face was a strange, shapeless blob. It would be useless, then, to try to read and pass the time until someone showed up. To be surrounded by books that could not be read; now _that_ was a nightmare for sure…

It must have been ten minutes or so of waiting before a noise at the front of the library caught his attention; the sound of the door opening. He heaved a sigh of relief and rose, carefully reaching out for the railing that he was almost certain was in front of him.

"Buffy?" he called hesitantly. "Xander, Willow?"

And his reply made his heart both flutter hopelessly, and sink with dread. "It's _me_, snobby," came a smooth, female voice. Giles would have loved for her to visit him- _loved_ it- on any other day. But for her to see him _this_ way was so terribly pathetic- "Rupert?" Her voice carried up to him.

"I- Ah…" He gulped, trying to level his voice. "Jenny? I… I may be in need of your assistance."

"Are you alright?" He listened to her footsteps, and he did his best to try and look in her general direction. It would be awfully embarrassing if he was looking all the way across the room when she was really- "Rupert, where are your glasses?"

He grimaced a little. "A bit of a mishap. Some rowdy students, and… I'm fairly certain they fell over the edge, could you perhaps help me search for them? It… Ah… It would have been nice if they had _retrieved_ my glasses after knocking them off…"

He thought he heard something that sounded like a faint, 'aww,' before the clicking of her shoes moved over to where he knew the staircase was. The clicking was distinctly different from that of the female students; Jenny's clicking was more delicate, yet stronger and more surefooted. It was interesting how he had never noticed how much could be said about her simply by the sound of her step.

"You really are hopeless, aren't you?" she said as she approached him, although it was obvious by that her tone that she was trying to make light of the situation. She always tended to do that. It was… It was sort of cute.

"Apologies," he muttered, trying not to blush. He heard her sigh.

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

"One," he said indignantly, before adding, "Oh, pardon, that's your _arm_. I am _quite_ unable to see; there's no need to _check_."

"Hm." It was more of a sound of interest than anything, though perhaps with an apologetic tone? He couldn't see her expression to tell the difference. "Well, come on, then."

There were a few more distinct clicks before he felt her hand take his, and gently tug him in the direction of the stairs. Even though he trusted her completely, he still automatically put out his hand in front of him to search for stray tables and bookcases. "I'm not going to let you smash into anything, just to let you know," she said. "Only… Wait, stairs!"

"_Where_!?" He stopped dead in his tracks with a little stumble, and the panic only subsided when he heard her laugh.

"Kidding, kidding…"

"You are a cruel woman."

"I am not. Here, stairs in just a few more steps; can you at least _sort_ of see them?"

"No…" He was still pretty sure that dark, long blob was the banister, and so he reached out and grasped it firmly, still glad to have Jenny as a bit of support. He took one step at a time, doing his best with the narrow spiral. Although, even with being distracted with not falling on his face, he could not help but notice how gently her hand held his.

It was very warm, her hand, and particularly soft- perhaps she had a fondness of hand lotion, and maybe that's why she smelled so nice today, and wouldn't that make a lovely gift for her for her birthday coming up, and was it the seventeenth or the eighteenth he couldn't remember, and perhaps he should save the thing he had gotten for her until then, and why was he getting so flustered about this, and- Bloody hell. It was just… It _was_ very nice. She had pianist hands, long and slender and dainty; he could only imagine how they flew over the keyboard when she typed, clicking with her manicured nails… And here he had to _search_ for something as simple as the 'enter' key.

He hoped she wouldn't mind that his hands were a little rough from leafing through so many books…

Eventually, he caught the rhythm of the stairwell, and he faltered only slightly when his feet finally hit the floor (though tripping seemed so much better knowing that it was a _ground_ floor.) He simply gave a soft sigh. "And all I wanted to do was have lunch…"

He heard Jenny chuckle. "Oh, you mean that sandwich I saw Xander wolfing down this morning?" Giles' expression turned to one of true horror and broken-heartedness. "It smelled like tuna."

"Oh, yes…" He cleared his throat. "That's what I thought it was…"

"You've been having a rough day today, haven't you?"

"Ah… A tad bit difficult, yes."

He felt her shrug and let go, much to his disappointment. "Just stay there," she said, before walking to where the edge of the balcony was.

There was a series of clicks as she moved back and forth, looking under tables and chairs… And then she stopped. He heard a scraping of a chair being pulled out and then, "Is this _mine_?"

Giles swore under his breath, only just remembering that he had stuffed that new copy of _Demons vs. Viruses_ under there the last time she had come in unannounced. After all, it was _sort_ of Buffy's fault that she had gotten coffee all over her old copy, and therefore it was _sort_ of his responsibility… It's not as if he had gone out of his way… He really hadn't…

"I picked it up," he said quietly. "I was in the bookstore downtown and I requested it for you. That is to say, it only seems fitting that you at least have use of a _few_ books, despite your distaste for them. You might _actually_ learn to like them a bit more."

She paused for a moment. Then, "I _do_ like them."

He wasn't sure if she was joking or not, or even what exactly the tone of her voice suggested, but he didn't have much more time to think. Jenny gave a soft 'aha.' "Found them," she said cheerfully.

"Thank you." He was grateful that for once she didn't tease, and simply walked up and took his handkerchief from his pocket to clean them before slipping them back onto his face. "I really do appreciate it."

"And I appreciate this," she said, giving the book a small wave. "It's sweet."

"Oh… Well. Ah- Yes."

She gave a quiet chuckle. "Well, I left you something on your desk that I think you'll like."

"You did?" He looked curiously over to the desk in question. "Now, _really_. You don't need to-"

Suddenly the doors burst open, and Buffy and Willow thundered in, the former shouting something about the fountain… "I'll see you around then," said Jenny, and she flashed him a quick smile before turning to leave.

"Hi Ms. Calendar- _Giles_!" Buffy's hair suggested she had just gotten into a fight with something. "There really _is_ something in the water!"

The Watcher looked desperately beyond them where Jenny was just disappearing out the door. "Ah- Yes. I was quite aware of our school's poor water filter. Or were you referring to some sort of sentient being?"

He sighed heavily and gestured for them to follow, just noticing the top of a paper bag that he knew hadn't been there before this whole to-do had even occurred in the first place.

"I mean there's more in there than just yucky minerals!"

"And God knows what else," murmured Willow.

"Yes, yes," he said, "do keep talking…"

He rounded the library counter (really _trying_ to listen to the Vampire Slayer) and plucked the paper bag from between two stacks of books. It really would be incredible if… He carefully unfolded the top, which had been neatly creased, and peered into the bag.

And sure enough, lying in a bit of plastic wrap was a turkey sandwich- with American cheese, sweet pickles, red onion, and a tiny dab of Dijon mustard…

Maybe, he thought, should let Xander eat his lunch a little more often.


End file.
